


Dear diary....

by Veronicajdjanis



Category: Musical Theatre - Fandom, Musicals - Fandom, Sweeney Todd (2007), Sweeney Todd - Sondheim/Wheeler, sweeney todd - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Musicals, Other, Sad, Sweeney Todd - Freeform, Sweeney Todd References, sweeney Todd the demon barber of fleet street
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 13:45:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16517618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veronicajdjanis/pseuds/Veronicajdjanis
Summary: This is sweeney Todd's unbearably sad life depicted In diary entries





	Dear diary....

Dear diary,

Those days on the barge were almost like being pushed into the clutches of a deep spiraling wave of sorrow that could drown you in a second. In that wave, the faces of people who you can barely remember flood your senses, and at some point, you can’t distinguish them at all. You become numb to all pain, a shadow of the person you once were, which in my case was a light hearted barber, an optimist. Within the chaos, there is one thing you remember the most, other than your name and your birthday.  
Your truest love.  
She bubbles up in your heart and makes it swell it up ten times the original size. She motivates you to live. She makes you feel every emotion you could need to breathe every day. Your love makes you remember why you need to get back home. You start to wonder why you're not reacting the way you used to, not laughing at things you usually would have laughed at, not noticing when the jail keeper hits you, not feeling anything at all. Your motivation then derives from something more than your family. More than your love, no, something the pure opposite of love. Love at some point becomes irrelevant. Something darker, something more passionate. You serve a new, dark, vengeful god now. You no longer belong to yourself. You begin to see that is happening to you, and that you are not a civilized man anymore. You are almost not a man at all, a mirror of a man, that is made up of all of the demons within. And you embrace it. You remember why you are here in the first place and slip into the coma of life again until you find the source of living that keeps you breathing.  
Your hate for your worst enemy.  
Your revenge, stirring in your soul that makes you tremble at the thought of your nemesis name. You feel your hands twitch at the thought of his throat beneath them. They need his blood seeping through their course fingers and dripping onto the wood floor below them. Not one man, no, not ten men will be enough until you get the one that has destroyed you.  
He has made you a monster.  
You need to get off of this place because the one thing you need is to kill him. You are filled with joy, and oddly, you love this new part of you, because you know you will get your revenge.  
But you never truly, deep down, forget your love.

Pardon me.  
I sound like I have gone crazy don’t I.  
I most definitely have gone crazy.  
At least no one can see the new me inside of me.  
I make sure to hide my feelings behind a mask of fake emotions on my face. Nobody can see my lust for blood behind my scowl. They can’t see my pain through my soft voice and mild manner. They can’t peer into my soul when they witness my smiles, though I can’t produce a laugh.  
My love for my wife is never going to leave me, even as I take my last breath,, and for that, I must get my revenge.  
The only incriminating evidence is in this diary.  
But every word that I utter on this paper is undeniably true.  
Everything about the prison life changes you.  
For worse.  
But for better in the long run. 

Each day went by on that bastardly prison, and eventually those day into weeks, and soon to years. Wrinkly lines formed on my face, and scars adorned my cheeks in jagged strokes making me appear older. I traced them with my fingers and felt the grooves in my skin. Every morning as I woke up, I looked in that mirror and saw myself, aging without my love, all alone. I saw my once young appearance die with my once young life, at the same time. They crumbled into ashes at my feet and blew away in the blistering wind. In the wind, they formed the face of Lucy holding our beautiful newborn child.  
Determination was inside of me, then.  
I imagined my love, singing at the edge of our lovely window seat surrounded by gillyflowers. Her silky hair fell upon her shoulders and reached to the bottom of her waist. In this dreamlike vision, she smiled at me and took my hand. I held it and rubbed her soft fingers, noticing the diamond ring. I was young again. She began to sing a little toon about birds, while our daughter, now a toddler, ran in circles with her pale pink dress flowing in the wind. I smiled, and glanced at my box of razors, nicely packed away, and never to be used again. Lucy and I decided we were going to start a different business, even though I was the most skilled barber in London. We both chose together that even though being a barber gave us good income, it was dangerous for our little girl to around so many razors and strangers. We wanted to open a bird shop, where all of the birds would sing for us each day. I blinked and reveled in the beautiful scene. And then I blinked again. And I saw where I actually was. Not in London. Not with Lucy. Nowhere but under the foggy abyss of Australia in the darkness of night.  
Judge Turpin would beg for the Devil to destroy his soul after I was done with him. He took my Lucy away, and in doing so he stripped me from my home and my daughter.  
After all of those years, sweating, tossing, turning and grasping for a morsel of humanity, I will finally conclude this neverending sob story.  
Today is finally the day.  
I am free.  
My trail of vengeance shall begin.


End file.
